9 

X 



French's International Copyrighted (in England, her 

Colonies, and the United States) Edition Of 

the Works of the Best Authors 

'"'"'''"l" 1 ' iiMiiHiMimi iifiiii iimihHllin minimum mmimmmmm mmmmimii iiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimimmi£ 

'""iiiniiiiiiiiimiiimiiiiiii iimiiiimiiimmmmimimmmi iimiiii in n iiiiiiiiiu mmmimi imiimmmmimiimS § 

No. 513 



PAN PIPES 

H TKlloo&lanfc plas 
in One Bet 



33 

31 



Copyright, 1919, by Constance Wilcox 
Copyright, 1920, by Henry Holt & Company 

(In a volume "Told in a Chinese Garden" and four other Fantastic 
Plays for outdoors or indoors) 



= s 

II 



3 S 

ii 



proiessionai ana amateur acting rignts must be 
French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N, Y. 

PRICE, 30 GENTS 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

1 25 WEST 45TH STREET 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Lm 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



2 BY 

|1 CONSTANCE WILCOX | 

f Princess Pignatelli 

> II 

< II 

00 11 



ft II ALL RIGHTS RESERVED II 

s Ii II 

O 1 1 CAUTION.— Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that I 

"Pan Pipes," being fully protected under the copyright laws of l| 

the United States of America, the British Empire, including || 

the Dominion of Canada, and in all countries of the Copyright || 

Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone presenting the play || 

without the consent of the author or her authorized agents will || 

be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for the H 



II 



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Mr,nogTl|fc 



BILLETED. 

A comedy in 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 males, 
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with all audiences. Price, 60 Cent*. 

NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. 

A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. Cos- 
tumes, modern. Two interior scenes. Plays 2 T /i hours. 

Is it possible to tell the absolute truth — even for twenty-four hours? It is— 
at least Bob Bennett, the hero of "Nothing But the Truth," accomplished the 
feat. The bet he made with his business partners, and the trouble he got into— 
with his partners, his friends, and his fiancee — this is the subject of William 
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IN WALKED JIMMY. 

A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, 2 females (although 
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interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2 l / 2 hours. The thing into 
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Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious figure 
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Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just a dash of 
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An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author of 
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It is altogether a gentle thing, this play. It is full of quaint humor, ol<? 
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Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for stage ser :, 
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Price, 60 Cents. 

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SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Re 



PAN PIPES 

A WOODLAND PLAY 

IN ONE ACT 

BY 

CONSTANCE WILCOX 

Princess Pignatelli 



Copyright, 1919, by Constance Wilcox 
Copyright, 1920, by Henry Holt & Company 

(In a volume "Told in a Chinese Garden" and four other Fantastic 
Plays for outdoors or indoors) 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION. — Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that 
"Pan Pipes," being fully protected under the copyright laws of 
the United States of America, the British Empire, including 
the Dominion of Canada, and in all countries of the Copyright 
Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone presenting the play 
without the consent of the author or her authorized agents will 
be liable to the penalties by .law provided. Applications for the 
professional and amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel 
French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N'. Y. 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 
25 WEST 45th STREET 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



1*0 a 



PAN PIPES 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



*>*% 
*& 



"Pan Pipes" is fully protected by copyright in the United 
States of America, the British Empire, including the 
Dominion of Canada, and all countries of the Copyright 
Union, and all rights reserved. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
public only, and no performance, representation, production, 
recitation, public reading or radio broadcasting may be 
given except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 
25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. 

It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a 
royalty of Five Dollars for each performance, payable to 
Samuel French one week before the date when the play is 
given. 

Professional rates quoted on application. 

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must 
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the 
play : "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel 
French of New York." 



is 1 827 

lie 



TO 

A. B. K. 

THE ORIGINAL FAUN, AND WHO HAS SINCE WITH OTHER 
PLAYERS, TAKEN THE PART ALONG SO MANY HIGHROADS. 



THE NYMPH 

Would you pursue me? Catch me then. How browned 
I am from Summer suns. How swift and slim 
From running in the wind. Within the dim 
Soft shadow of my hair is wood scent found. 
I hide within the wood. It is a game 
That two can play. My eyes are all alight 
With sun and shade that move for your delight. 
My lips are molded soft to call your name. 

I am a Dryad. Will you be as kind, 

As that tall oak that held me in its arm 

And whispered secrets of the wood? You know 

I am half elfin, daughter of the Wind 

And should you ever touch me to my harm, — 

Back to that strong oak lover will I go. 



FIRST PRODUCED IN MADISON, CONNECTICUT 
Copy of the original program : 

PAN PIPES 

A WOODLAND PLAY 



Characters in Order of Appearance 
Harry (of the Luxurio Stores) - G. Scranton 
Clare (his fiancee) T. Skinner 

A Nymph E. Wilcox 

The Faun ----- A. Keating 

The Scene — A Woodland 

Time — A Summer Afternoon 



The Play is for the Benefit of the 

MADISON HISTORICAL SOCIETY 

Admission 50c. 

After the Play a costume Tea will be served in the garden, 

25 cents 

Thursday, August 28, 1919, 4 P. M. 

If Rainy, Friday, August 29 



PAN PIPES 

A Woodland Play 



PAN PIPES 1 

A Woodland Play 

Scene. A wooded hillside. 
Time. A summer afternoon. 



CHARACTERS 

Harry, of the Luxurio Stores, 
Clare, his fiancee. 
A Nymph. 
The Faun. 

1 Copyright, 191 9, by Constance Wilcox. 



PAN PIPES 
(A Fairy Tale) 

r M ^HE scene is an open hillside with long grass, 
m sunlit and rippling in the wind. On either 

"^ side woodland encroaches with old gray trees 
and thick twisted undergrowth. A gnarled oak stands 
out a little by itself, against a blue and white sky. A 
shrill piping is heard to drift across from the wood. It 
is high and eerie and suddenly melts into silence. 

Harry and Clare appear from the back over the 
curve of the hillside. Harry is a stocky youth in the 
latest of pink shirts and black and white check trousers. 
He carries his coat over his arm and fans himself with 
a very new straw hat. His face is red and hot and his 
dark hair plastered in a wet straggle over his fore- 
head. Clare is a tiny creature in bright green, her 
hands thrust in the sagging pockets of her sweater. 
She is capped with a turned up black and green silk 
sport hat. Under its close brim her hair puffs out each 
side of her pointed face, a bright straw yellow. She 
is quite pale but gives the effect of color because of 
her incessant motion. 

Harry 

(Puffing) 
Nobody here. I said as there wouldn't be. 

63 



64 PAN PIPES 

Clare 
Oh, let's go just a bit further, Harry. It's such 
larks, exploring. And I'm sure I heard something — 
a sort of whistling like. 

Harry 

Wish it was an umpire's whistle. No such luck. 
Well, it couldn't be no hotter on the bleachers than it 
is here. Believe me. 
{He wipes his forehead with a pink handkerchief) 

And stiller'n the tombs at that. 

Clare 

{Looking about) 
I guess maybe it was just a locust I heard. But it's 
greener up here than it was down there somehow. Oh, 
it is pretty! 

Harry 
{Wading forward in the grass) 
Bugs and grass. That comes cheap. This is the 
rummest excursion the Luxurio Stores ever put across 
since I've been handlin' their taffetas. Lordy. Bare- 
foot dancin' by a gang of high brows in a Jersey side- 
track. Lordy. {He reaches the oak and stands pant- 
ing in its shade.) 

Clare 
{With a little twirl) 
They were class. Mrs. Gethem says they was — 
was nymphs, she said, in the real Greek colors. 

Harry 
Cheesecloth. Dyed. Fifteen a yard — wholesale. 



PAN PIPES 65 

Clare 
(With a toss of her head) 
You're so bourgeoise, Harry. It's all the go these 
separate dances. It was a dance to Pan they was doin', 
the professor man told me. It looked like lots of fun. 
(She takes a light step or two.) You go just where 
you feel like. (She twinkles her fingers as she whirls, 
as if playing a Pans pipe.) It comes natural. Isn't 
that pretty? (Her hat falls off. She catches it, and 
turns suddenly.) There — you clapped your hands. 

Harry 

(Fanning himself with his hat) 

I did not. Give me a jazz fox-trot every time. 
Not but what you've got 'em all tied to a standstill for 
looks, Clare. Always had. I picked some winner for 
my best girl. 

Clare 
(Coming towards him, puzzled) 
Some one did clap their hands. 

Harry 

(Carefully spreading his coat on the grass under 

the oak) 

Some of the poor ginks back there applaudin' an 
encore of the dyed cheesecloth and bare feet to get a 
drag with the boss and his professor friend. Not for 
mine. (He sits down on the coat and pats the grass 
beside him.) If I've got to go to grass I prefers to 
nick my company. 



66 PAN PIPES 

Clare 
(Dropping down quickly, beside him, her hat in 

her lap) 
I like the grass. I do. And it smells simply won- 
derful. It's great up here — just you and me in the 
sun and green — 

Harry 
(Patting her hand) 
Here's to it. But no fresh air fund stuff for yours 
truly. Coney has the same green effect with good 
little old railways running through it. Zip-wow — 

Clare 
(Pulling away with a little laugh. She spills over 
backwards on the grass) 
Oh — and I'd just rather roll down this hill! 

Harry 

What's eatin' you ? Want a little cheesecloth dress to 
caper with the rest of the bosses' highbrow entertain- 
ers? Some little annual picnic. Lordy. They're all 
crazy as katydids. And now you've got 'em. 

Clare 

(Kneeling in the grass, arranging her rumpled tousel 

of straw colored hair) 

There's lots of things different from what you and 

I have always known. The store — and Coney — and 

the movies — 

Harry 
Not forgettin' some future manceuvers with furni- 
ture on the instalment. 



PAN PIPES 67 

Clare 
{Busy with her hair) 
There's other things. When we're all hustlin' in 
the city with so many people and houses about I don't 
hear 'em. But up here. (She looks about.) It's as 
if my mind just started talkin' to me because every- 
thin' else was so still. There's lots of things we don't 
know about, Harry. 

Harry 
I'd just as soon do without. If the bare foot trip- 
pin' about we was brought up here to enjoy's a sample. 

Clare 
(Staring) 
What's that you're sitting against, Harry? 

Harry 

(Shifting, and revealing a squarish boulder, lichen- 
covered and worn with time) 
A stone. Look out or you'll give me the jumps. 

Clare 
(Intently, as she moves near) 
It's — it's squarish, isn't it — and flat on top — and 
oh — it's got sort of marks on its sides. 

Harry 
See here. The sun's gone to your head. Put on 
your hat. 

Clare 
(With a laugh as she jumps up and runs to the stone) 
Oh, it is. I'm sure it is — one of those stones the 



68 PAN PIPES 

professor was telling us about. He said there used 
to be lots about the hills — altar stones to Pan, he 
called them. Funny oquare stones with a little scoop 
in the top to catch the rain — look, here it is — 

Harry 

(Edging away nervously) 
Well, what of it? Why didn't the precious dancers 
gyrate about this if it was so grand? I guess it was 
too blooming hot for them. (He yawns.) 

Clare 
(Excitedly , as she balances herself on the stone) 
They would have if they'd known it was here, I 
guess. That was who they was dancin' to — Pan. 

Harry 
(Stretching himself) 
Who's he? 

Clare 
But the professor says nobody knows just where 
these stones will be or who put them here — that's 
the fun of it. Only — only sometimes people used to 
think Pan did it. He was a sort of god, you know — 
big and strong with hoofs like a goat, and lives in the 
woods — 

Harry 
(Sleepily) 
Bunk. 

Clare 
They — they said he used to come and drink out 



PAN PIPES 69 

of the rain water in the hollow and after that the 
water was magic. Oh look ! There's some here now ! 
(She dips her finger in it.) 

Harry 
Bunk. 

Clare 
But think what fun to have believed it. Oh — I'm 
sorry I can't believe it, too. I'm sorry they're noth- 
ing but fairy-tales. Don't laugh, Harry. 

Harry 

(Who has slumped down on the other side of the tree, 
and is now preparing for a nap) 
I didn't laugh. I wasn't that entertained. (He 
rolls up his coat and thumps it into a pillow.) 

Clare 

(Indignantly, slipping off the stone) 
You did laugh. I heard you. 

Harry 
When you come to, wake me. (He turns over.) 

Clare 
(Stamping) 
Oh, sleep if you want to be so stupid. You're a pig. 
Nothing but a big pink pig! (She shoves him with 
her foot.) 

Harry 
(Sitting up sulkily and looking very like what she just 

called him) 
Say, I guess you're just a little bit above yourself. 



7 o PAN PIPES 

Ain't you, Clare? You have been ever since we come 
into this silly wood. It ain't anything that's the matter 
with your old Harry? Is it? You know I couldn't 
breathe much if I thought that. (He pulls her wrist.) 

Clare 
No. Of course not. It's just — (She hammers 
on the grass with one fist) that you don't understand. 

Harry 
Now what don't I ? 

Clare 
Oh — just how I like the — the grass and the sun 
and everything. I could eat it. 

Harry 
(Running his fingers through his hair) 
It makes me sick. It does. It's enough to turn the 
gall of any straight American. That's what comes of 
taking decent people out to see these new fool fan- 
dangle idiotic dances in the woods — to Gods what 
never was anyhow and least of all here. 

Clare 
Oh, they were — they were — It's not just the 
country. It's not just Jersey or Greece or any place. 
They were everywhere where there were woods. 

Harry 
Yes — and what do you get out of the woods? Ant 
bites and dirt, and maybe a day's picnic that would be 
a lot cleaner in good little old Coney. Or maybe you'd 



PAN PIPES 71 

like to be a farmer's wife? I guess you know what 
that means all right. They ain't overfond of the sun 
and woods what's all around 'em. What would the 
country do for us? Put us in the hobo class in a 
month. Leave the nature fakin' to the idle rich what 
has automobiles to carry 'em away from it. Don't 
you get your head turned by no high-brow picnic the 
boss gives us all — and a rotten slow one too if you 
ask me. {'He subsides towards his coat pillow.) No 
back-woods life for us. 

Clare 
But there must be some way of just — enjoyin' it. 

Harry 
{Recumbent) 
There ain't no way. Flies — mosquitoes — hornets 
— dust and five miles to the nearest corner. Lordy. 
Lordy. And hard on the feet — {He shoves up one 
yellow oxford-clad foot and surveys it.) I'm com- 
pletely busted. Say, Clare, you don't mind if I do 
take a little snooze? This country life is rougher on 
me for half a day than six months trampin' the aisle at 
the Stores — and no raise in sight here either. I'll 
just rest up a minute here. You run along if you like 
and see some more of the boss' bare foot entertainers — 
or get in with your friend the professor what planned 
the boss' treat. Treat! Lordy! 

Clare 
{As he settles comfortably down) 
No-o. I'll stay here — and keep off the hornets — 
{She fans with his hat.) 



72 PAN PIPES 

Harry 

(Drowsily) 
Good little Clare. 

(He sleeps. She continues to fan gently, and 
then drops the hat slowly into her lap, and clasps 
her hands on it, looking out over the field.) 
(There comes suddenly the shrill quick piping 
from the wood. It stops.) 

Clare 
(Sitting up on her heels, and pushing back her hair) 
Oh — Yes? 

(The piping comes again louder — and stops as 
suddenly as before. There is a slight crackling 
in the wood.) 

Clare 
Who is it? (She peers into the wood. Silence.) 
Who is it? Harry — did you hear that? 

(Harry turns over with a soft grunt. He is 

dead asleep.) 

(The piping sounds again very sharply. There 

is a crashing in the undergrowth — and then a 

laugh.) 

Clare 
(Starting to her feet) 
Oh! That was what laughed before. (She 
shivers.) 

(Suddenly with a breaking of undergrowth a 
girl tears out from the wood. She is very 
slight with thin brown arms and legs twinkling 



PAN PIPES 73 

from a bluish green shift, and dark hair flying 
out behind her. She stumbles on a root as she 
comes into the open, recovers her balance and 
flies over the ground. Her face is twisted back 
over her shoulder and she is gasping with terror. 
She collides suddenly with Clare — leaps back 
and then grasps her again.) 

Girl 
Quick. Run. Quick. He's close behind. Quick. 
(She drags at Clare.) 

Clare 
Who is? 

Girl 
(Pulling her along in an agony of haste. There comes 
further crackling from the bushes she has just left) 
Oh — hurry. Hurry. He'll have us both. It's 
Glaucos the Faun. He's there — and he's seen us. 

Clare 
(Holding her arm) 
Oh, you're one of the dancers. What's the matter? 

Girl 

(Freeing herself with a frantic jump) 
I must get back to my tree. I must. I shouldn't 
have come out — but I thought there were others. 
Oh, he's close here. Stop him. Stop him! 

(She bolts across the hill into the wood on the 

other side, just as The Faun crashes out of the 

wood behind.) 



74 PAN PIPES 

Clare 
Here. Stop there. Stop! (She gets right in the 
way of The Faun zuho is running head down. He 
recoils from the collision.) Aren't you ashamed of 
yourself, chasing about like that! 

(The Faun recovers his balance, and with a 
sudden lurch seizes her in his arms.) 

The Faun 
Syrinx ! 

Clare 
(Freeing herself with such a violent wrench that The 
Faun, taken unawares tumbles suddenly backwards) 
How dare you! I'm not Syrinx! 

The Faun 
(Who has only bounded down like a rubber ball, and 
is now crouched tense, in the grass looking up at her) 
No? Not Syrinx? What are you then? 

Clare 
(Angrily) 
I'm Miss Clare Flaxon of the Luxurio Stores, and 
there's my fiance there, Harry Markem. I guess he'd 
like to wake up and see you treating me like that ! We 
came out on the store's annual picnic and we saw you 
dancing, but I don't think the boss would have much 
to say to you if he saw you chasing about this way. 

The Faun 

(Speculatively) 
I'll get her yet. (He grins and looks at the wood 
opposite.) The minx! 



PAN PIPES 75 

Clare 
How could you chase the poor young lady so ! Even 
if it was all play-acting — she looked really scared. 
You frightened her out of her wits. 

The Faun 
(Rising) 

Frightened ! Was ever creature so absurd ! She 
loves it. The chase. The wind in her face. The 
excitement. The scant breath. She lives for it! 

Clare 
She looked just exhausted to me. And I should 
think she would be with all that dancing down there 
in the glade — and all the encores we gave them. 

The Faun 
What! (He stares and then drops suddenly back- 
ward on the grass and rolls about with shrieks of 
laughter.) Oh, you thought her one of those dancers 
in the glade — one of those splay footed — clumsy — 
heavy imitations. Oh, I shall die of laughter. You 
thought her one of those creatures who hopped about 
before people. Oh! OH! (He sits up suddenly 
still shaking with mirth, and points a finger at Clare.) 
Oh, if she should hear it! She would strangle you in a 
tree crotch, or bury you alive in running water. (He 
bowls over again with laughter.) 

Clare 
I don't see anything so funny. WTiat is she then? 
A prima-donna? 



76 PAN PIPES 

The Faun 
(Sitting up on his haunches) 
She is Cloris the nymph and her home is the birch 
tree. And I — (He stands up and stretches to his 
full height.) I am Glaucos the Faun. (He is a 
splendid brown creature with shaggy legs and a vivid 
beautiful face. He wears a vine wreath in his rough 
dark curls and a pans pipe slung over his bare shoul- 
ders. ) 

Clare 
(Retreating a step) 
Oh — you look like — Pan. 

The Faun 
Don't speak sacrilege — Syrinx — I am only a faun. 

Clare 
Who — who are you ? 

The Faun 
I have told you. The Faun, Glaucos. The dweller 
in the hazel thickets. 

Clare 
You — you frighten me somehow. (She smiles un- 
certainly.) But I suppose it's only your funny way. 
(She glances at the sleeping Harry to reassure her- 
self.) Every one must have his fun. 

The Faun 
Yes! Every one must have his fun. So I came 
out to-day. Oh, and it has been fun! Those dances 



PAN PIPES 77 

in the glade by those fat imitations ! I nearly split my 
sides. {He laughs.) 

Clare 

You're as bad as Harry. I thought they were very 
pretty. So graceful and soothing sort of. It's a pity 
there aren't any more nymphs and — and fauns really 
to dance. It would be nice. I'm kind of sorry there 
aren't any. 

The Faun 
{Creeping towards her) 

Oh, aren't there? Aren't there any? Who is it 
runs through the woods at night? You can hear the 
thud of their feet on the dead leaves. Who is it has 
just left the undergrowth all trembling as you enter 
it? Who laughs in your ear when you are alone on 
the hills? Who watches from behind tree trunks, and 
splashes just a little way up the brook? Who stole 
those who went into the woods and never came out? 
What was it you saw running in the fields at twilight? 
{His face is thrust close into hers.) 

Clare 
{Recoiling) 
Oh, don't! I'm afraid. Oh! It is silly of me 
to be frightened at things that aren't real. Isn't it? 

The Faun 

I am here. The faun. I am strong as wind and 

hot as fire. Touch me. {He advances as she steps 

back from him.) It is I who hurl the branches down 

from the living trees in the storm. I am so strong I 



78 PAN PIPES 

can throttle the wood beasts with one hand — while I 
laugh. 

Clare 
Horrible! 

The Faun 
Beautiful! Have you never run through the night 
with the stars swimming all about you — or plunged 
in an ice black pool to come up ringed with silver — 

Clare 
I am dreaming. Like Harry, I am dreaming. 

The Faun 
{Standing above the prostrate and gently breathing 

Harry) 

Like Harry! (He throws back his head and 
laughs. He leans towards her.) Yes, dreaming per- 
haps. But differently. In your eyes is the flicker of 
shadows in the wood brook. Your head when it turns 
is the toss of the aspen. Your dreams are real to you 
— and I am in them — not this pig. 

(He stirs Harry ivith his foot. Harry turns 
over on his back with a gentle sigh. His mouth 
is open.) 

Clare 
(Rushing to the rescue) 

He is my man. Mine. My fiance, and he loves 
me. And I do him. Go away whoever you are or 
I'll wake him now. 



PAN PIPES 79 

The Faun 
{Crouching, his face working) 
Which is more real to you — this snoring creature, 
far enough away from you now in his sodden sleep, and 
a future with him that you know no more of, in some 
noisy, dirty slatternly city where you will become one 
with the greasy ugly humans about — where you will 
lose all semblance of the loveliness you have now and 
be some one you cannot even picture. Which is the 
more real to you — that — or the whisper in your 
ear that the hills are free to you — take them — take 
them — and the shimmer before your eyes that some- 
thing waits for you just over their crests? Syrinx — 
Syrinx — (His voice grows soft — a melting whis- 
per.) Do not wake. 

Clare 
What are you? 

The Faun 
(Coming towards her) 
I am the magic in life. Believe in me. 

Clare 
I almost do. 

The Faun 
(Standing passive) 
I am waiting — Syrinx. 

Clare 
(In a burst) 
Show me something to prove you are real. Show 
me! 



80 PAN PIPES 

The Faun 
(With a little smile) 
Once you have touched me — willingly. Once I 
hold you in my arms — willing — You are one of us. 
You will know it. 

Clare 
(Approaching him — trembling) 
How — how will I know it? 

The Faun 
You will be as air — and sunlight — transparent to 
human eyes. But you will be as free as they — as 
immortal. You will be young forever. Come. But 
you must be willing. (His voice caresses.) Surely 
to touch — surely to be free cannot hurt you ? 

Clare 
I should — I should love to be young forever. 

(She touches his arm. She reaches up timidly 
towards his shoulder. He seizes her suddenly 
and kisses her. Then, still holding her, he 
throws back his head and laughs loud and long. 
Clare struggles and frees herself with a jerk.) 

Clare 
Oh, I am frightened. I am. It's horrible. Go 
away. Harry! Harry! 

(The Faun continues to laugh, holding its 
sides. ) 

(Harry sits up with a jerk. He looks about 
him wildly.) 



PAN PIPES 81 

Harry 

(In a voice still thick with sleep) 
That you? Clare? Are you calling me? Clare! 

Clare 
Here I am. Here I am. Oh hold me, Harry. 
I'm frightened. 

Harry 

(Jumping to his feet, fully awake) 
Clare! (He glares wildly about.) 

Clare 
Here! Here! Before you. Don't you see me! 

Harry 

(Lurching out towards her, and past her) 
Where are you? Are you hiding, Clare? Is it a 
trick? I can hear your voice — just faintly. I'll 
catch you yet. You wait. (He looks up the tree, 
then around it.) 

Clare 
Harry! Look at me! Look at me! 

Harry 

(Peering into the branches of tie tree) 
That's what I'm trying to do. Oh, come on down, 
Clare — the joke's over. Where are you anyway? 

The Faun 
(With a sidelong leap, circling the tree, and peering 
out from behind the trunk) 
Anywhere — everywhere — in the shadow — in the 



82 PAN PIPES 

sun, as long as the sun and shadow play. {He grim- 
aces, and blows in Harry's face.) 

Harry 

Bother the wind. Clare — where are you ? Clare ! 
Don't tease me like this. I never would 'a wanted 
to hurt your feelings, Clare! 

Clare 
{Sobbing) 
Give him back to me! Let him see me! Take 
away this awful thing. {She grovels in the grass be- 
fore the faun.) I feel something burning me. Take 
it away. 

The Faun 

{Prancing just before her, pointing at her with out- 
stretched arm) 

You gave willingly — and it is given forever. 
Laugh. And it will burn away all your memories. 

Clare 
No. No. Help me. Help me. 

Harry 

{Leaning up against the tree trunk, looking about) 

What's that? I'm coming. {He starts away.) 

Clare 
{Gasping) 
No! I'm here. Here with you. 



PAN PIPES 83 

Harry 

{Returning — worried) 
Then where are you? 

The Faun 
{Coming near her, still pointing) 
I will come for another kiss — and then — you will 
be all with us. You will be an aspen tree, and your 
bright hair will shake in the breeze with its leaves. 
But when I call, you will break out of the bark, and 
run until I capture you again. {He throws back his 
head and suddenly capers off in a great circle, about 
them.) 

Clare 
I am here, Harry. Here at your feet. Only you 
can't see me. {She gulps.) I — I am bewitched I 
think. You never will see me any more. I — I will 
be an aspen tree! {She collapses on the grass.) 

Harry 
What's that? I can't hear you. 

Clare 
The faun — he came out of the wood — and — and 
Harry, he kissed me. I let him. Forgive me. For- 
give me. 

Harry 
{To himself) 
I don't hear anything any more. 

The Faun 
{Approaching) 
It's beautiful to be free — Syrinx. As soon as you 



84 PAN PIPES 

laugh you will forget — and I will come for you. 
{He prances before Harry.) She has gone into the 
wood, man. Go after her. It is a pretty place, the 
wood, with green thickets that might hide anything. 
Come along. I'll show you. {He dances ahead.) 

Clare 
{Rising) 

No! No! No! 

The Faun 
Look at him. He doesn't hear you. He is only 
a lump, and you are immortal with the sunlight now. 
He will never hold you again. You are for me, 
Syrinx. I will come back for you — alone. 

Clare 
I hate you. You are horrible. You have no heart! 
Let me go back ! 

The Faun 

{Dancing and pointing his finger at her) 
Never. The immortals have no heart, and no mem- 
ory. Laugh and you will be an immortal. Laugh. 
Laugh. 

Clare 
{Sobbing) 
Never to remember anything! Never to be human 
again ! 

The Faun 
When I return I will make you laugh. {He dances 



PAN PIPES 85 

off and circles Harry.) Come seek your love in the 
thicket, man — and I will scratch you nicely. (He 
laughs and plunges into the wood, Harry after him.) 

Clare 
(She falls face down on the old stone under the oak 

tree) 
Give me back my life! Give me back my life! 

(The Faun and Harry are heard crashing in 
the underbrush. There comes the faint sound 
of pipes, then laughter. Then silence.) 

Clare 
(Sobbing on the stone) 
Whoever you are — God of the woods, you are 
cruel, cruel! 

(There is a breath of silence, and then a voice 
speaks from the oak.) 

Voice 
Who drinks the water on my altar? 

Clare 

(Starting up. Her hand is in the little pool on top 

of the stone and she shakes back her head, some 

drops of its water flying from her hair.) 
What is that! 

Voice 
Who drinks from the stone that has been the drink- 
ing cup of Pan? 

Clare 
I — I do. (She puts her hand dazedly to her 
mouth, and back again to the little pool.) 



86 PAN PIPES 

Voice 
Wish then. Pan tasted it this morning. Wish. 
Would you have no fear? Would you be of those 
who never die? Wish once. It is granted. 

Clare 
What — what do you mean? 

Voice 

The stone is my altar. It is long since mortal has 

tasted the water fallen there. But Pan still lives. 

While there is wind and sun Pan lives. 

t 
Clare 

It — it was true then. This was a magic stone. 

(She touches it bewilderedly.) 

Voice 
I drank from it at dawn. The water that has 
touched the lips of Pan is breath of life to a mortal. 
Are you afraid? 

Clare 
No — somehow I am not afraid any longer. 

Voice 
Wish then. Once. 

Clare 
(Pushing back her hair) 
I — I seem all bewildered. I have forgotten 
things. It's — so misty about — and hot. 



PAN PIPES 87 

Voice 
Wish to live forever in the gold of the hills. Wish 
to fly along the crest of the wind, to learn the secrets 
of the river, to sing with the leaves in the wood. 

Wish. 

(There is a sudden crackling in the bushes. 
Harry emerges, disheveled and panting ) 

Harry 

I don't believe it. I don't believe that you've left 
me. I wouldn't have done this to you, Clare. I 
wouldn't. Won't you tell me where you are? Clare! 
Clare! It's all some dreadful nightmare. (He 
plunges over towards the tree.) Clare! Tell me. 
I'm done up. I am. I feel you're all about, and yet 
you're hid. It's horrible. (He sits down under the 
tree.) Oh, Clare, what have I done to you? Have 
you got up and left me for good? You're not in the 
wood or anywhere! (He pulls himself together and 
stretches himself out, his folded arms over his face.) 
She'll come back. She must. I'll wait here for her. 
I'll do it if I die for it. 

Clare 
Harry! 

(He does not move.) 

Clare 
Harry! 

Harry 

I never meant to do anything wrong. 



88 PAN PIPES 

Clare 
Oh, I can't hurt you this way. It is horrible. Oh, 
why can't you see me? Why can't you hear me? 
You must! It is all a dream. Oh, I wish it were. 
I wish it were a dream. I do! 

(She leans back suddenly on the old stone. A 
change comes over her face. She sinks down, 
sleepily. Harry stirs, turns over lazily, and 
rises on one elbow.) 

Harry 

{With a yawn, stretching his arms) 

Ah-hum. (He sits up.) You still here, Clare? 
I had a rummy dream. 

Clare 
(Rising from the stone, a little unsteadily) 
I — I think I've been asleep too. I must have been 
— with some sort of queer dream. I don't remember 
just what. My foot's asleep. (She stamps it.) 

Harry 

(Rising, and picking up his coat) 
I dreamt something was chasin' me. I couldn't 
seem to get away from it. We went around in circles 
and the funny part of it was you was mixed up in it 
somehow. Well, I guess that's a sign we'd better 
chase along. Picnic must be most over. (He rubs 
his head.) Queer. I dreamt I was chasin' you, too. 
And you wasn't at the picnic or nowhere. Just 
laughed at me. It was hot, too. 



PAN PIPES 89 

Clare 
It is hot. I — I don't think somehow it's as nice 
here as when we first came. I don't guess I like the 
country much after all. (She looks about.) It's sort 
of queer and still — and prickly. 

Harry 

(Genially, putting his hat on at an angle) 
What did I tell you? What about a good little 
spin down the asphalt together and something ice cold 
after a movie to-night when we get to town. Eh? 

Clare 
(With a sigh) 
That sounds mighty good to me. 

(He takes her arm. They move off slowly.) 

Harry 

(Shaking out his coat, and readjusting it over his 

arm) 
I tell you what. Picnics is picnics and the coun- 
try's the country, even with free bare foot dancin' 
thrown in — but somehow it ain't exactly comfortable 
if you ain't bred up on it. Now is it? 

(They walk off behind the hill.) 
The piping is heard again from the thicket. The 
Nymph suddenly appears from the other side. She 
dashes into the open, her hair flying out in the wind. 
The Faun leaps after her They circle the open space 
running madly and then plunge into the wood. 



go PAN PIPES 



FOR OUTDOOR PRODUCTION OF 
PAN-PIPES 

Any woodland glade will do very prettily for the 
play instead of the scene in the meadow given. It is 
nice to have some undergrowth through which the 
Faun can crash, and a little vista where the Nymph 
runs off through the woods. The Voice of Pan, of 
course comes from a person seated behind the big tree 
that is essential for a center — (This person can also 
very easily act as prompter.) 



FOR INDOOR PRODUCTION OF 
PAN-PIPES 

At the back, a misty green gauze drop with slim 
high trunks of trees cut out in flat soft gray silhouettes 
against it. On the sides huge dark trees, their 
branches meeting overhead. All the trees can be made 
flat colored, and silhouetted to the audience. The ef- 
fect is very eerie and striking. In the center, the high, 
dark gnarled oak with the rough stone altar beneath. 
The light is the flickering green and gold of sunlight 
in the woods. 

It is better not to try to make the scenery of this 
play realistic or elaborate. It is an elfin play, and 
much depends on the suggestion of the uncanny. 



PAN PIPES 

NOTES ON COSTUMES AND SCENERY FOR 
AMATEURS 

COSTUMES 

Harry wears any sort of suit that is obviously 
ready made, and a shirt and tie of the vivid variety 
pleasing to his class. He must be dressed in quite bad 
taste without being too vulger or exaggerated, just as 
his acting must be slangy and plebeian and yet hold our 
sympathy. 

Clare wears a simple dress and sweater, preferably 
green, with small hat to match. She should avoid any- 
thing too loud or patterned. 

The Faun has an animal skin slung over his bare 
shoulders, forming the tunic of his costume. This can 
be any color deer or leopard skin, but shaggy skins are 
to be avoided as they make him look like an early cave 
dweller rather than a Faun. A Pan's Pipes can be 
easily made of graduated reeds bound together with 
cord, or if this proves difficult just two long reeds with 
holes in them. Of course they do not need to be 
practical. He wears this slung over his shoulders 
also. He can have trunks of dark green or brown — ■ 
or mottled of the two, which is better. His legs and 
arms and face must be stained just the right deep 
reddish brown — yet not too dark, and he wears a 
rough twist of green vine in his hair. He can have 
bare feet or brown leather sandals. If desired these 
can be laced high up the leg, but they must be dark 
and inconspicuous. The chief point is to make him 
seem a wild woodland creature, half animal, half 
man, melting into the light and shadows of the wood 
as if he were really part of it. 



The Nymph is far prettier if she is not too con- 
ventionally costumed. Tatters, of brown and green 
chiffon, make a very pretty shift, worn over a basis 
of unobtrusive green or brown. The less she wears 
the better, and her legs and arms are stained brown 
also. Her hair must be flying in a tangle, with a 
twisted vine in it. 



SCENERY 

The chief point of the outdoor scene is to have it 
wild enough. There must be no hint of civilization in 
the background or a great deal of the effect is lost. 
However, if this background is hard to find, a hillside 
does very well, seating the audience, contrary to 
custom, at the bottom, and having the actors on the 
hill, so that all the audience sees for scenery is the side 
of the hill against the sky. Noises of any sort, such 
as a nearby trolley, motors, etc., greatly mar this play, 
for the chief effect is its eerieness. A great effort must 
be made to find a quiet spot. 

With indoor scenery, as has been stated in the note 
at the end of the play, realism is more or less a mistake. 
If really effective and unusual woodland scenery cannot 
be made, it is better to have absolute simplicity. The 
imagination of the audience can do far better than the 
average paper set that serves for every play. Just a 
blue cyclorama, well lighted, and the silhouette of a 
great tree, and the dark stone, both cut from card- 
board and showing black against the sky, is an easy 
set and one that is most effective. This play has been 
given simply before a curtain. Its virtue is really in 
the tenseness of the acting and the spirit of it, and any 
scenery not in perfect accord will only mar it. 

The sound of "Pan's Pipes" can be very delightfully 
imitated on an occarina — or old-fashioned sweet 
potato instrument. Queer little minor phrases 



should be used, with long drawn-out soft notes, and 
then little minor runs. No particular tune should 
be used but improvisations to suit the acting. The 
player can be seated behind the tree or hidden in the 
background. The first phrases of Debussy's "Little 
Shepherd" are a good model for the music. 



THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 8 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt Mary," 
"Jack,' her lively nephew; "Lucinda," a New England ancient maid of all work; 
"Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" loves; "Joshua," Aunt Mary's hired 
man, etc. 

"Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour for over 
two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever produced. We strongly 
recommend it. Price, 60 Cents 

MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
"The Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. Cos- 
tumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for 5 his initial comedy the complications arising from the 
endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude peopled by hyphenated 
names— a theme permitting innumerable complications, according to the spirit of 
the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. Fiske 
with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 

MRS. TEMPLES TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and William 
Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands throughout the 
three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2]/ 2 hours. 

"Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there is an abund- 
ance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any element of offence. As 
noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we 
practice to deceive!" 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time the curtainl 
rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and furious. A very exceptional 
farce. Price, 60 Centsj 

THE NEW CO-ED. 

A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "Tempest and 
Sunshine," etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number of 
boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One interior 
and one exterior scene, but 'can be easily played in one interior scene. 
Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 

The theme of this play is the coming of a new student to the college, her 
reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are three especially good girls' parts, Letty, Madge and Estelle, but 
the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Doolittle and George Washington Watts, 
a gentleman of color, are two particularly good comedy characters. We can 
Strongly recommend "The New Co-Ed" to high schools and amateurs. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 



SAMUEL FPENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



DOROTHY'S NEIGHBC 018 360 596 3 

A brand new comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "The 
New Co-Ed," "Tempest and Sunshine," and many other successful plays. 
4 males, 7 females. The scenes are extremely easy to arrange; two plain 
interiors and one exterior, a garden, or, if necessary, the two interiors 
will answer. Costumes modern. Plays V/z hours. 

The story is about vocational trainiag, a subject now widely discussed; also, 
the distribution of large wealth. 

Back of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good logic and 
i sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the attention of the experi- 
enced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, particularly suited to high school 
production. Price, 30 Cents. 



MISS SOMEBODY ELSE. 

A modern play in four acts by Marion Short, author of "The Touch- 
down," etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Costumes mod- 
ern. Plays 2ji hours. 

This delightful comedy has gripping dramatic moments, unusual character 
types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern in theme and treat- 
ment. The story concerns the adventures of Constance Darcy, a multi-million- 
aire's young daughter. Constance embarks on a trip to find a young man who 
had been in her father's employ and had stolen a large sum of money. She 
almost succeeds, when suddenly all traces of the young man are lost. At this 
point she meets some old friends who are living in almost want and, in order to 
assist them through motives benevolent, she determines to sink her own aristo- 
cratic personality in that of a refined but humble little Irish waitress with the 
family that are in want. She not only carries her scheme to success in assisting 
the family, but finds romance and much tense and lively adventure during the 
period of her incognito, aside from capturing the young man who had defrauded 
her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic situations and 
is highly recommended for amateur production. This is one of the best come- 
dies we have ever offered with a large number of female characters. The dialogue 
is brieht and the play is full of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in 
it. This is a great comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome 
story will please the parents and teachers, We strongly recommend it. 

Price, 30 Cents 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in three 
acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female char- 
acters. 

This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an admirable play 
for amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied types and is not too difficult 
while thoroughly pleasing. Price, 30 Cents, 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 



\ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




018 360 596 3 



